Page 26 of Tripped Up

I release the breath.

“You’re good at this,” I mutter, my eyes focused on the column of buttons lining his shirt.

“I used to get panic attacks,” Wyatt admits in a calm, quiet voice. His stormy blue eyes are locked on mine.

“What?” I had no idea. Bex never mentioned anything.

He nods, holding my gaze. “Before every game. Sometimes between intermissions.”

“How—but you’re a professional hockey player.”

“Took a lot of work to get there. Spent a lot of time with a sports psychologist. She gave me some tips.” He gives me a sad smile. Then it fades. “It’s hard, especially when you’re in the thick of it. It feels almost impossible to overcome.”

“Yeah.”

“But you can overcome this,” he says firmly. “This doesn’t have to define you, it doesn’t have to limit you. You can find a way to work with it, instead of against it.”

“I’ve had panic attacks before,” I snap.

He squeezes my hand, still pressed against his pec. “And you’ll probably have them again. We just have to work on whatever triggered it.”

I look away.

“Do you know what triggered it?” There’s no pity in his voice, only concern.

“I thought I saw my ex,” I mutter, looking away.

His sharp inhalation is enough of an answer.

“I’m pathetic. I know.”

“Elsy, you are many things,” Wyatt says. “But you are definitely not pathetic.”

ten

Wyatt

My heart breaks at the pain on her face.

“Do you want to talk about it? Him?”

I don’t want to listen to her talk about another man. But if that’s what she needs, I’ll give her the moon and more.

“He dumped me. I lost my job. And I left Boston three weeks later. What else do you want to know?”

It’s damn-near impossible to swallow past the lump in my throat, and it’s not because of the tie around my neck. Maybe I’m the one who needs to work on my breathing.

“Why Austin?”

“My mentor is the musical director here.”

“That’s good,” I choke out.

She breathes in, then out, without my prompting her. Then does it again.

“I think I’m okay,” Elsy whispers.

“Okay.”